


Reignite My Memory Tonight

by hope27



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-30
Updated: 2013-06-30
Packaged: 2017-12-16 15:46:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/863759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hope27/pseuds/hope27
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Felicity helps a wounded Oliver who ended up in the backseat of her car, they have a conversation in the Foundry.  Set after Episode 1x14.</p><p>Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reignite My Memory Tonight

When she returned to the office below the warehouse, she was surprised to see Oliver sitting alone on the table he’d been on before he had woken up. His body was hunched over and he was trying to see his wound once again and apply a dressing before putting on his shirt.

Silently, she picked up a mirror from a nearby table and walked over to him, holding it out to him.

He looked up at her then, as if confused as to her being there. She opened her mouth to explain, but he spoke first.

“Thank you,” he mumbled, looking back at the marred flesh on his chest. His skin was an angry red around the stitches, but it wasn’t bleeding anymore and the skin around that looked perfectly healthy. She wondered how much pain he was in remembering that they hadn’t given him any pain medicine (and she suspected he had some stashed in this place.)

“Does it hurt?” she finally whispered, and his head jerked up, once again startled by her presence.

He cleared his throat and shook his head, “I’ve had worse,” he stated evenly and then tried to move his left arm, testing his mobility.

He cringed almost as soon as he lifted it away from his body. “You should probably take it easy for a few days. I don’t want to have to stitch you back up myself.”

“So you didn’t faint?” he smiled up at her, even though he looked so tired.

She scowled. “No…just got a little queasy at one point but that was when we were trying to get the bullet out.”

He nodded and returned his gaze to the mirror. “I’ve done that before,” he mumbled and she could see he was a million miles away in his memories so she waited for him.

After a few moments, she shifted and he looked back up at her, frowning as he stared at her chest. Her cheeks heated and she looked down trying to figure out what he was staring at…or why. 

When he reached out his right hand to finger her collar, she cleared her throat, heart beat rising as his fingers brushed the top of her collar bone. “Um…Mr…Oliver…what…”

“You’ve got blood on you,” he said, tone even but his eyes were roving over her as if trying to find the source of the bleeding.

She chuckled softly trying to diffuse to sudden tension in the room. “That’s yours,” she told him, her hands moving to point to his wound and only managing to bump into his own arm that was still holding her collar. That slight touch sent heat sparking through her and she knew she needed to put space between them, but she didn’t want to startle him by jumping back. Although alert, he seemed a bit foggy on the details of the whole night.

Oliver’s brow furrowed at her words and she saw the recognition on his face when he remembered. “I was in your car. You carried me in here?” He wondered in disbelief, glancing around for evidence of this feat.

She laughed, shaking her head. “No…tried. You’re too heavy. I had to get Mr. Diggle. Thank goodness he was here. I don’t know what I would have done then. I wanted to take you to a hospital but I had promised and then when your heart stopped beating…” She leveled her gaze at him them. “You can’t do that again! I almost had a heart attack.”

His lips tilted upwards and she realized somewhere during the middle of that rant she had grasped the arm that was still fingering her collar. 

She froze when she realized what she was doing, slowly releasing her tight grip. “Sorry,” she whispered, her face burning.

This time she heard him chuckle lowly, “I don’t bite, Felicity,” he told her softly and she finally looked up at him again. 

She couldn’t help but return his smile. “Nope, you jump off buildings and shoot arrows in your spare time.”

He cocked his head to the side, studying her. “You disapprove?”

She bit her lip, trying to find her words, “No,” she stated carefully, “I understand what you are doing, or what you’re trying to do. At least as much as Mr. Diggle would tell me. I’ve seen the good you’ve done. But there are so many casualties in the process, Oliver…do you ever think about that?”

Oliver lowered his head, a deep sigh escaping his lips. For the first time, Felicity noticed how exhausted he looked. His shoulders slumped with unseen burdens. “Every day, Felicity. Every day.”

When he glanced up at her again, he narrowed his gaze. “Can I tell you something? Something in confidence?”

Swallowing, Felicity nodded stepping closer, feeling as if she needed to be near to hear whatever it was he was going to say.

“I shouldn’t have made it off that island,” his voice was almost a whisper as he began, but she heard every word. “I wouldn’t even kill a bird to eat it when I first got there. I was starving. Cold. Scared. I never really had to take care of myself before that.”

“So how did you survive?” she ventured, matching his tone, curious and surprised that he was telling her this.

“I met two men who taught me how to survive. They taught me that if I was going to live, I was going to have to learn how to survive. And not just how to hunt, but how to fight, how to kill because it was either that or be killed. I needed to make it back here, Felicity. I _need_ to right the wrongs of my father, like he asked me to. I never want there to be casualties. But sometimes…sometimes, you can’t avoid them. And sometimes, you can’t trust anyone enough to avoid them.”

Felicity listened to each word, slowly realizing that he had been through a lot more than anyone knew. His voice, his body language, everything changed when he talked about that island. That place made him into a different person, and he was trying so hard to prove to everyone he hadn’t changed. She knew that would be exhausting. He trusted few now, and she had a feeling he was always watching his back or waiting for the stab. She wondered if he truly trusted her and Mr. Diggle. Probably not, she reasoned. His trust had been broken. And once something that fragile is broken, it’s one of the hardest things in the world to mend.

Felicity broke the silence, fisting her hands at her sides to keep them from reaching out to him, “You told me I could trust you, Oliver,” she began, and he looked up at her with questions in his eyes. He was trying to figure out what she was about to ask. “And I know you meant it even if you weren’t completely telling me the truth at the time.”

At that, he nodded. “I’m trying to protect you.”

She closed her eyes briefly at that. He was trying to protect so many people, including himself.

“Well, when I trust someone, I say that means it goes both ways. But, do you really trust me, Oliver?” She asked, her words running together as she tried to get them out quickly.

Oliver studied her for a moment. “I wouldn’t have come to your car tonight if I didn’t.”

She nodded her head, relieved at his answer. “And you trust, Mr. Diggle?”

“He’s saved my life more than once,” Oliver replied with no hesitation. 

“Then that’s at least two people, not bad for a man who says he has trust issues.” She smiled softly.

He grinned at her, wincing again as he tried to move the blanket over his shoulder.

“Do you need something put on that?” she wondered aloud, her focus back to his wound. “Did Mr. Diggle leave?”

“Yes…we had a disagreement,” Oliver replied, hesitating over the last word. 

“About you getting shot…or me?” her voice was low, but she could tell Diggle hadn’t been overjoyed at her appearance tonight. Although he seemed to warm up over time.

“He's just worried about your safety…and he thinks I’m blind to my mother’s possible involvement.”

“Oh,” Felicity nods, helping him pull up the blanket, and trying to ignore the way his gaze stayed on her face the entire time. “It’s nothing we haven’t…discussed before.”

She nodded, not sure if she wanted to venture into any more questions tonight. It had already been a long one…

“You need to cover that with something,” she stated, finding herself staring at the wound, “Otherwise it’s going to get infected.”

He motioned with his head to a drawer by the table, “Second drawer. There should be some gauze and tape we can use.”

Felicity opened the drawer, collecting the materials she would need and then returning her place in front of Oliver who had dropped the blanket to let her see the wound more clearly.

Her eyes roamed his broad chest, cataloguing each scar, each mar in his tan skin. She had noticed them earlier, as she was helping Diggle, but she hadn’t had time to think about them. Now, as she stood in front of Oliver, Diggle's words came back to her. _He’s survived worse…_

Some of the scars were smooth, but most were jagged, as if they were cut into the skin with a serrated edge. Felicity shivered at that thought. How could he have survived that, on an island without advanced medical care? 

Her eyes hovered over the two marks cutting along the left side of his chest above his heart, almost as if a claw of some animal had gotten him. A thousand different scenarios of how he could have received that wound flashed through her mind, each one worse than the previous. Two other scars littered his left side, one starting just under his pectorals and stretching to the end of his ribs and the other, a crescent shape, beginning at the base of his ribs and disappearing under the hem of his leather pants. 

Realizing where her gaze had stopped, her cheeks heated up, and she quickly looked away. Avoiding his gaze that was carefully fixed to her face, she reached for the medical supplies she had set on the table next to him.

As she dabbed his new wound with alcohol to clean it thoroughly, she snuck one more glance at the scar on his right shoulder. It reminded her of burn, the skin mottled and uneven. Without thinking, she placed her fingers over that spot, as if to brace herself there while she finished her work of cleaning his newest soon-to-be scar. She could feel the beat of his heart quicken slightly at her touch, and she wondered if she could be having that effect on him or if it was simply the pain from the alcohol. She went with the latter.

After throwing away the cotton she’d used, she grabbed the gauze, ripping open the sealed package and carefully taking it out, pressing it to the wound. Realizing she needed the tape, she lightly held the gauze in place while she reached over and around Oliver, trying to find the tape she knew she’d retrieved from the drawer. 

In her search, she failed to realize how close this put her with Oliver. Feeling her own heartbeat pick up at the feel of his breath against the skin of her neck, she swallowed, finally spying the tape on the far corner of the table underneath the gauze wrapper. One last reach and she clasped it with her fingers, but found herself losing her balance and tipping to the right. 

Two strong hands came out and held fast to her waist, righting her, and she held on to the tape bringing it with her. She could feel the heat of his fingers through the cotton of her blouse and inhaled at the unexpected feeling his touch brought with it. Berating herself internally, she tried to busy herself with finding the edge of the tape, but soon realized she needed both hands. 

“Hold this,” she finally mumbled, motioning to the her right hand held the gauze against his chest.

Without a word, his large hand covered hers and she almost jumped before quickly pulling her hand out from underneath his. _Get yourself together Felicity,_ she warned herself, you’re acting like a high school girl with a crush.

Closing her eyes, she pushed her glasses farther up on her nose and reset her emotions. When she opened her eyes, she quickly found the edge of the tape and began to peel off enough to hold the bandage in place. 

Soon, the tape was in place and Felicity leaned back to admire her work. She shrugged her shoulders, and finally risked looking up at Oliver. “Not professional, but it should hold.”

Her voice came out softer than she thought, and she quickly cleared it, trying to think of something else to say as his eyes still roamed her face. She suddenly felt transparent, as if Oliver Queen was reading every single emotion she was feeling.

Her eyes darted back to his bandage and then to the scar on his left shoulder, a particularly jagged one that curved like a hook. Furrowing her brow, she found herself looking back up at him, ten different questions sitting at the tip of her tongue.

“How…” the word was out of her mouth before she could stop it, but no other words followed. She shook her head in wonder as she gazed up at him, her earlier nervousness dissipated by the longing to know. He shouldn’t have survived. It’s what the computer-like analysis she’d quickly done in her head told her. There were so many scars; so many wounds…

A flurry of emotions flashed through his eyes and he sighed her name, half in warning, and half in exhaustion, “Felicity…”

It was then she realized she shouldn’t have asked. The scars were none of her business. Her business was to help him find Walter. That’s it. She was the IT girl who looked up things, who used her knowledge of computers to track down information or hack into hard drives and computer systems, nothing else.

“I’m sorry,” she stammered, backing up, shaking her head, “None of my business…”

She hastily started to gather the used medical supplies and took off the gloves she’d been wearing, throwing them in the nearest trash can. 

She froze when she turned around and realized he hadn’t moved from where he’d been sitting. He hadn’t even started to put his clean shirt on. He just stared at her.

And, suddenly, Felicity didn’t know what to do. Oliver had a way of throwing her off kilter. She never knew exactly how he was going to react to things, or what he would do next. His emotions ran hot and cold and she wondered how much lay beneath that cool veneer he placed on every time he went in public. Yet, she was learning when to challenge him and when to let him go, although she was discovering that she liked challenging him. Because every time she did it, he looked at her with this expression of surprise – like she’d just done something he hadn’t expected. She found that was when he was at his most genuine. When you could throw him off his regular game and he had to just be Oliver Queen and not The Hood who planned every move out.

Everything in her wanted to start talking; babbling about something absolutely unrelated to what they had been discussing to try to ease the tension mounting in the room. The other part of her urged her to wait and see if he would talk. He looked like he wanted to; but then again, he also looked like he wanted to run as far away as possible.

Finally, he spoke, his voice gravelly and low, “Which one?” he asked quietly.

Felicity raised her eyebrows, shocked. “Wh..What?” she found herself asking even though she was pretty sure she knew what he was offering.

He sighed, finally shifting his gaze from her to his chest. “Which one do you want to know about?”

He was going to give her one story. One. Did he think he owed her that? Maybe it was some kind of test to show he trusted her? Or maybe he was just kidding…although she was sure he wasn’t.

Glancing back at his face, she narrowed her eyes, finally realizing, this was his way of showing her he trusted her. He was opening up. He was giving her something, sharing something, even if he didn’t know if he should. He was trying.

Biting on her bottom lip, she moved closer to him again, eyes trailing over him, before reaching out toward two identical marks that looked like claw marks. She halted her fingers before she touched him, knowing that would not be wise for so many reasons.

He sighed, his voice low and haunted as he started to talk. She listened intently. At times, she felt her stomach clench, and knew she’d inhaled sharply because of the way he’d look at her; intense and calculating, but calm at the same time.

By the end of it, she knew two things for sure. One, Oliver Queen had survived much worse than a bullet to the chest. And, two, his scars were more than skin deep.

“I’m…” she tried when he’d finished, eyes glazed over with a faraway look. She wanted to comfort him, but she wasn’t sure if he’d accept that. She wanted to ask more questions, but knew she couldn’t. He’d already given her more than most.

“Oliver…” she finally managed after a few moments silence, “Thank you.”

His head turned toward her, eyes snapping up to her as his brow furrowed. She gave him a small, hesitant smile, willing him to understand everything she couldn’t say. _Thank you for sharing. Thank you for trusting me. Your secrets are safe with me._

After a few moments, he nodded. Running a hand over his face and through his hair, he looked around the foundry.

Noticing a small piece of tape coming undone on his chest, Felicity reached out a hand to fix it. Oliver frowned at her before realizing what she was doing, and then sighed as he reached for his shirt.

The computers beeped and Felicity frowned, turning towards them as a confirmation of the destruction of the blood sample from the Queen Consolidated break-in popped up on the screen. 

“Looks like the cops lost their lead on the vigilante,” she murmured, smiling in satisfaction.

“I’m beginning to think I owe you another bottle of wine,” Oliver chuckled as she carefully smoothed the edges of the gauze into place, her fingers gently dancing over his skin.

Felicity grinned as she helped him pull the white undershirt over his head, noticing his grimace as he lifted his left arm.

“I’ll put it on my bill,” she quipped, stepping away when she saw he could finish pulling it down on his own.

She found her purse and her jacket, pulling it tightly around her before glancing back at Oliver. He stood, trying and failing to reach his one arm back far enough to get it into the sleeve. Sighing, she strode over to him.

“Why is it that men can never ask for help?” she mumbled, not expecting an answer.

“I’ve been on an island for five years, remember?” he responded quietly, “I’m a little out of practice.”

Feeling very stupid, Felicity shook her head, “Right,” she replied softly. “Somehow I don’t think it was all lost there…You’re learning, though,” she added, a small smile pulling at the edges of her mouth. 

Oliver rolled his eyes and smiled back, the earlier tension dissipating from the room. His mood swings were hard to predict, but Felicity was learning that sometimes, you just needed to get Oliver Queen thinking of things besides his past. 

Maybe tonight was the first step in looking toward the future…for both of them.


End file.
